


Waiting Game

by falsteloj



Category: Young Dracula
Genre: Community: 36_stratagems, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 36_stratagems fest. I got prompt #36 ~ If everything else fails, retreat. If it becomes obvious that your current course of action will lead to defeat, then retreat and regroup. When your side is losing, there are only three choices remaining: surrender, compromise, or escape. Surrender is complete defeat, compromise is half defeat, but escape is not defeat. As long as you are not defeated, you still have a chance.</p><p>(I have a ton more YD stuff - you can find story summaries, etc, by clicking <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/27201609">HERE</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Game

They hadn't been back in Stokely ten minutes when Robin was at the door. Vlad grinned widely and let him in, ignoring the weight of Ingrid's knowing gaze as he led him to the staircase.  
  
"How was Transylvania then?" Robin asked as soon as they reached Vlad's bedroom, dropping down onto Vlad's bed as if he owned the place. Vlad just smiled and perched next to him, wondering how inappropriate it would be if he were to wrap his arms round Robin's neck and show him just how much he had missed him.  
  
Considerably, he imagined.  
  
"It was alright," he said instead. "Boring."  
  
"Come off it," Robin admonished. "I bet it was awesome. All those vampires bowing down to you an' that."  
  
Vlad shrugged. It had been kind of cool. Especially when Granny Westenra had had to kneel, fangs grinding with barely concealed fury, and kiss his feet. He could get used to that kind of power. Still, determined to change the subject he asked, "Tell me what you've been doing. Did you go on that camping trip?" Mr. Branagh had been planning it gleefully when he had left for the summer.  
  
Robin rolled his eyes and sank back against Vlad's pillows dramatically. "Didn't I just! It was horrible." He wrinkled his nose, "Even worse than last year. And I didn't think that was possible."  
  
It was selfish, but the news heartened Vlad. He didn't think he much liked the idea of Robin having a good time when he wasn't there with him. He had spent long days staring at the underside of his coffin lid hoping Robin wasn't forgetting about him, wouldn't find someone new to spend all his time with.  
  
"There was one good thing about it though," Robin said, breaking through his reverie. Vlad turned to look at him curiously, stomach crawling at the sight of the dopey smile Robin usually reserved for talking about Ingrid. Robin's expression turned uncharacteristically shy, and he didn't meet Vlad's eyes as he handed his mobile phone over, the screen full of a photograph,  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Vlad?" Robin asked nervously when he didn't reply immediately.  
  
He tried to force himself to speak but his voice refused to cooperate. He had to settle for nodding vigorously, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. The Robin in the picture looked happy – really happy – sunburnt across the bridge of his nose, arm looped around the waist of the figure pressing a kiss to his cheek.  
  
"His name's Aled," Robin said quietly. "I think you'd like him."  
  
Vlad wasn't sure what hurt more, the fact Robin had managed to replace him, or the way he was staring at him, pale and anxious, waiting for Vlad's approval. He forced his face into a brittle smile. "He seems nice."  
  
He cringed even as the words left his mouth, what a stupid thing to say! But Robin just smiled in relief, taking his phone back and gazing at it dopily for a moment, before returning it to his pocket,  
  
"You can meet him when he comes down on the weekend."  
  
Vlad very deliberately avoided meeting Robin's eyes,  
  
"Great."

 

* * *

The weekend dawned grey and miserable, the weather readying itself for the beginning of the school year. Vlad scuffed the toe of his trainers into the ground, and tried not to let the sickening jealousy overwhelm him as he and Robin waited at Stokely train station. What could this boy possibly have that he didn't? He'd bet good money he didn't have fangs, for starters.  
  
Robin couldn't keep still next to him, glancing at the arrivals screen roughly every thirty seconds, as if they wouldn't see the train if it were coming.  
  
"He's in a band," Robin told him for the fourth time that morning. "And we like all the same horror films."  
  
Vlad opened his mouth to protest as the train finally appeared – he'd sat through films which had given him nightmare for weeks for Robin – but Robin cut him off, gripping at his arm excitedly,  
  
"There he is!"  
  
Vlad had wanted to hate Aled, and he found he didn't even have to try, it just came naturally. He hated the way Robin's face lit up when he saw him, and he hated the way Aled kissed Robin in front of everyone, clearly not caring what anyone else thought about it, the way Vlad knew he himself wouldn't be able to.  
  
He hated the way Aled shook his hand and acted thoroughly decently, Vlad trailing around awkwardly like a third wheel. He hated the way Mrs. Branagh treated Aled like a fourth son, the way she'd always treated him, and he hated the way Aled didn't have to be home by 6 O'clock to answer a stack of angry letters demanding he lift the ban on peasant baiting, and repeal the rights of Half Fangs to sit on Council.  
  
Over the next few weeks he only came to hate Aled more. For the way Robin preferred to spend his nights on MSN, and his lunchtimes with his mobile phone glued to his ear.  
  
At first Vlad tried to fight back, pretending he needed help to sift through the boxes of potentially dangerous vampire artifacts in the spare crypt. He let Robin prod a finger at his lengthening fangs, and even forged a note for rugby practice so he could sit with Robin without taking a backseat to Aled's phone conversation for once.  
  
None of it made any difference, and Vlad contemplated just giving up. Accepting that he'd left it too late and trying to move on. He was so certain it wouldn't work he ruled it out immediately. Instead he poured through the advice columns in Ingrid's cast off copies of Gothmopolitan, wondering, just for a moment, if there were any chance he could get away with driving a stake through Aled's heart and UV handcuffing Robin to the nearest piece of (suitable) furniture.  
  
It was unlikely, at best.  
  
Eventually he took the only course of action he could. Wait for Aled to mess up.

 

* * *

By the Christmas holidays the situation was looking bleak. Ian had been through four girlfriends, and Robin was still waxing lyrical about Aled's eyes every chance he got. Ingrid hissed in his ear that he should just hypnotise Aled into dumping Robin, and he spent the entire night tangled tight in his new shroud, feeling sick with guilt for actually contemplating going through with it.  
  
He was so convinced that his rival was never going to put a foot wrong that, when Robin turned up at bedroom door, eyes red and face blotchy, Vlad could hardly credit it. Robin didn't say a word about it, sprawled across Vlad's coverlet and made them watch some stupid film about vampiresses luring hapless slayers to their lair. Vlad pretended not to notice the way Robin kept swiping at his cheeks and, when it was finished, he suggested Robin ring Mrs. Branagh and stay the night.  
  
It was the end of the week before he couldn't take the uncertainty any longer, the lights on the Branaghs' Christmas tree twinkling prettily as they sat together on the sofa, almost – but not quite – close enough for their thighs to touch.  
  
"Are you seeing Aled at all?" Vlad asked as casually as he could, resisting the urge to redirect his gaze from the television screen to Robin's face. "Before we go back to school, I mean." His heart was thudding painfully in his chest, and he flexed the fingers of his right hand rhythmically, the one which had Robin's hand within touching distance, trying not to get his hopes up too much.  
  
"I'm never seeing him again," Robin said eventually, tone dark. "He's an idiot."  
  
Vlad swallowed, not knowing what to do. What to say. How to make it better, and how to make Robin fancy him instead, all at the same time. He was glad they were the only ones in, that the twins wouldn't burst in on this.  
  
"You know-" He cleared his throat and started again, impulsively touching his hand to Robin's, just the press of his fingertips against Robin's warm skin, "You know you can talk to me about it, don't you? If –" Robin met his gaze, dark eyes over bright, and Vlad faltered, "if you want to."  
  
The silence stretched, one beat, two, three. And, then, Robin squeezed his hand, just for a moment, and smiled, "Thanks, Vlad. You're the best." Robin removed his hand, and turned his attention back to the television, ending the conversation. But, after reaching for the remote, he squirmed back against the cushions, until the gap between them was closed and the heat of Robin's thigh soaked through two layers of denim.  
  
Vlad finally relaxed. They'd get there, he was sure of it.  
  
In the meantime, he slouched back further, so their shoulders were touching too. He could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


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